Page 47

47

Ace

I park three houses down, cutting the engine so I can roll to the curb in silence.

3 a.m. in East Point.

It’s dark and still. The air is crisp, the wind whispering ominously through the trees. My heart is pounding as I walk up the block, but my hands are steady.

I cross the yard and go around the side, just like I’ve done twice before. I take the pane out again, then hoist myself through the first-floor window. I’ve done more breaking and entering in six months than I have in all my thirty-two years.

I land softly on the balls of my feet, feeling my way through the unfamiliar space as best I can.

I wait until I hit the hallway to turn on a light. It flickers above my head, almost like a warning, casting flashes of my shadow across the hallway floor.

I creep toward his room, briefly wondering how the fuck I got here. It’s another one of those surreal moments where it feels like I’m watching somebody else’s life. I’ve had a lot of those since I met Raya.

I peek through the crack, and there he is. Raymond Ashford.

I push the door open and step inside. He’s in his bed, asleep, not a care in the fucking world, wheelchair waiting patiently for him when he’s ready to start his day in the morning.

He ain’t seeing daylight.

I stand over him, the syringe burning a hole in my pocket. I could end this shit right now, just slide the needle in, press the plunger, and walk away.

It’s too easy.

I want his ass awake. I want him scared. Just like Raya used to feel.

I lean down and tap his shoulder, hard, but not hard enough to leave a mark. I gotta be careful about that. His eyelids flutter, then open, his pupils blown wide with confusion. For a second, he stares, and I wonder if he remembers me.

Then the fear registers.

I smile. “Yeah. What’s up, fuck nigga?”

He tries to speak, but all that comes out is a wheeze.

My fists clench and unclench at my sides. I wanna hit him. I wanna beat him into the fucking floorboards. I wanna shred him until there’s nothing left but blood and bones. I wanna hurt him like he hurt her.

Instead, I stare down at him in disgust. “You know me, right? I’m Raya’s boyfriend. I’m the man who loves your daughter, motherfucker.”

He’s so scared, he doesn’t even blink.

“How the fuck could you do that to your own child? I can’t even wrap my head around that shit.” I’m shaking from the effort it takes to hold myself back. “You fucked her up. Now, I’ma fuck you up. How’s that sound?”

His lips tremble, his hands gripping the bars at the sides of the bed.

“You’re about to die. I’m telling you that so you can know how that feels. You killed that girl every time you went up them stairs.”

A dark stain spreads across the sheets. The air goes sour, the smell of ammonia sharp and biting.

I pull the syringe from one pocket, the vial from the other, and draw the liquid inside. I find his vein easily, sliding the needle in quick. He whimpers, but I have no mercy. I push the plunger, slow and steady, whispering him through it.

“Go to hell, motherfucker.”

Tori said to give it a few minutes, but I want him gone now. I pinch his nose and cover his mouth lightly with my palm. His body jerks a few times, then goes still.

Relief courses through my veins, as does something darker.

Pride.

I fucking redeemed myself.

I pull out my phone, thumb hovering over her name. I think I’m in shock for a minute, just staring down at it. Raya. The woman I just killed for. The woman who turns me upside down and inside out.

I hit call. It rings twice before her voice comes through, groggy and thick with sleep.

“What?” she mumbles.

“Come downstairs.”

There’s a beat of silence, then I hear her bare feet padding across the floor. The stairs creak beneath her weight, each step slower than the one before it. When she reaches the bottom, she sees me, her eyes dropping to the syringe in my hand.

Her lips part. Her expression is unreadable. Then she launches herself at me, arms tight around my neck, molding herself to me like we’re one entity.

I drop the syringe and hold her trembling body.

“Thank you,” she whispers into my chest. “I love you so much.”

She pulls back, lifting up on her toes. Her mouth finds mine, her kiss desperate and messy, teeth scraping, tongues tangling. I grab her ass, pulling her closer.

“Fuck me,” she says against my lips.

I open my eyes. “Raya—“

“I wanna celebrate. Let me celebrate,” she whines, and I realize I can’t tell her no. I never wanna tell her no. I wanna give her whatever she wants until she’s happy, and then give her some more.

I nod.

She drags me to the floor, right next to the bed that holds her father’s body. She pulls her t-shirt over her head. She’s naked underneath it, her skin glowing in the moonlight. I push my sweatpants down just enough, my dick already hard, and sink into her.

Hot. Wet. Greedy. She’s taking every inch of me and begging for more. Her nails rake down my back, and the stings let me know she’s shredding skin, leaving marks. But I don’t care. Her head tilts back, exposing her throat, and I can’t resist. I squeeze my hand around it, applying just enough pressure to make her gasp.

“Yes,” she moans. “Just like that.”

I see his hand in my peripheral vision, dangling over the side of the bed, still and frozen in time. But I keep my eyes locked on hers, aroused by what I see. Need. Devotion. Love. Pride. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to see in a woman’s eyes.

She comes apart beneath me.

I follow right behind her, a strong release, my hands still around her throat while her body milks me of everything I have.

The room smells like sex and death when we’re done.

I roll us over, letting her rest on top of me, absorbing the hardness of the wood floor so she doesn’t have to. Her chest is heaving, her skin damp.

She kisses me softly on my jaw. “You’re my hero.”

Fucking right.

I had to cross a moral line to achieve it, one I can never uncross, but I’m here now.

And for her, I’ll do it for the rest of my life.